


Stars Between Your Eyes

by QueenMissFit



Series: Words Have Power (Labyrinth/Supernatural Crossover) [2]
Category: Labyrinth (1986), Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Jareth!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 01:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14822286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenMissFit/pseuds/QueenMissFit
Summary: Words Have Power sequel





	Stars Between Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awkwardsloth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardsloth/gifts).



Everything had returned to normal in the end, I suppose.

After that night, I had returned back the next evening, armed to the teeth with every ritual, sigil and anti-being things. I ventured the house with a small knife and carved the sigils into the wood, the scars barely shining, spread the salt under the blanket surrounding his crib, his play pen or even the sofa his father sat that I never dared sit on but would happily place Sammy so we faced each other. It was wrong to cause the damage but it helped, the need to take the boy and run until those eyes couldn't chase me, those words having to fall away like a shadow refusing to give chase, until  _we_ were safe. Even the looks I got from Mr Winchester as he stroked the scars didn't stop me from slowly realising all was right as long as I was returned to my routine.

Yet when I gazed up at the sky at night, something was off. 

There were no stars to stare at and if I could blame it on pollution I would. Yet even helicopters or planes or UFOs or whatever flashing lights of the sky didn't appear. The bleak darkness shrouded over the place I lived, a suffocating eeriness that felt like a glass over a spider.

Sammy wasn't growing up either. Maybe because I saw him everyday, rushing home to see him, always fearing he would be ripped away by  _him._ Babysitting him had consumed the rest of my life and suddenly there was nothing for me to do but wonder; no more calls to go to bands with (Y/F/N) - no more calls from them at all actually - no more ventures out of town in case Sam would disappear, no more distance than necessary between me and the picket fence that held the house inside.

I wondered often about the price that Crowley had spoken of, the price that he refused to speak of as if it was something as ingrained in their society as privilege was in mine.

I sat in class, staring aimlessly at the specks of dust that never seemed to settle just like my skin didn't. I wondered if the 'demon' wanted my soul and would come back, ten years later. Although time passes, I can't track it - won't track it.

As I ventured to the Winchester home, I thought about  _his_  offers, the monster he had called himself or the eternity together that could have been mine if Sammy  _was_ the price.

Alone, I I sit with Sammy on my lap, hoisted onto my hip as I microwave, even keeping the door open slightly so I could watch him from the bathroom, and wondered (never if Sam was worth any price, too scared of the invisible claws that could slide around my neck like a noose, too terrified that if I thought it that it would be enough to summon  _him)_  if the price was something as simple as never truly being free.

If only I had kept this to myself...


End file.
